


You don't understand; we don't hold hands

by AliceAyres



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drama, I am kind of soft, Longing, M/M, Past Relationship(s), people who are missing each other desperately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceAyres/pseuds/AliceAyres
Summary: Their breathing. Gerard’s is erratic. Frank’s is low, steady. They can hear each other. Frank puts the second bottle on the nightstand and the sound of the glass is loud in their ears. Then it disappears.Their breathing. Gerard’s is getting louder; he is anxious, he knows, because Frank’s eyes are an ocean and he is screaming, asking, please, let me drown. Frank sighs, his breathing slowly getting a little higher. Frank knows he shouldn’t be there. He knows he will have to leave in the morning, that the plane will be waiting for him at ten, but Gerard’s face, stubble and all, is still the prettiest thing he has ever seen.Suddenly they are in a cheaper hotel room, sitting on the floor and laughing because of too many bottles of booze. Suddenly they look at each other and everything is inside this moment of connection - eyes, eyelids, eyelashes, maybe too much eyeliner as well.
Relationships: Frank Iero & Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	You don't understand; we don't hold hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hey.
> 
> It's been a long time.
> 
> I'm sad and I'm thinking about Frerard this days.
> 
> I needed to write something. So, here it is. 
> 
> Just a friendly reminder that: I am not a native speaker, so you will find many mistakes in this piece. I'm sorry about it, but feel free to give me feedback. This way, I can learn and correct my errors. :)
> 
> I don't have a beta and I haven't read it twice; otherwise, I probably wouldn't post it.
> 
> Thank you. Hope you enjoy it.

When his phone rings, Frank thinks about not answering it. Eleven o'clock, he thinks, I'm way too tired to have a conversation right now.

It rings again and again. Frank sighs and grabs the vibrating smartphone. Unknown number. Bad sign.

"Hello?", he answers. Someone is breathing on the other side, so he just waits.

"Hey," he freezes when he hears that voice. He would recognize it anywhere, anytime, sober or not. Frank swallows down his nervousness and makes a sound, something like "hm", as he waits for Gerard to say something. "I'm sorry, I know it's... Well. Good evening."

"Which number are you calling me from?", Frank asks, trying to sound cool, trying to sound -- "It's not the number I had."

"Yeah, I changed it," Gerard mumbles, which is enough to make Frank suspicious. "I was wondering if you would be willing to have a drink with me."

"I am in New York," Frank says, nonchalant.

"So am I".

Frank stops. Sleep leaves his body as he sits on his bed.

"What do you mean?"

"Hotel Cavalier," Gerard says, then goes mute. He sighs. "I am sorry. I asked your crew about the place where you would be, then I booked a room for me."

"Why would you do that?"

"I really wanted to talk to you," Gerard says, his voice low and shy. "I saw your show. I missed your voice. A lot. And... I thought it would be nice if we could talk".

"So you decided to come to my hotel instead of just calling me," he doesn't mean to sound bitter, he really doesn't, but there is this thing in the center of his chest, this burning pain, this ache. "It's been a few months since the last time, I mean."

"I know," Gerard apologizes without saying I'm sorry once again and Frank should be so fed up of it, but he knows: this is how Gerard is. This is what makes him so utterly disturbing and irritating and addictive. He never says too much, he is always on the verge of saying everything, but he never, ever --

"What do you want from me?", Frank asks. He wanted to sound demanding, rude, angry, but he is just so tired.

“Would you believe me if I said I want nothing?”

“No,” Frank doesn’t hesitate. He knows him enough to read between the lines. “It would definitely be something unprecedented. You always want something from me.”

Gerard doesn’t say a word. He waits. He knows Frank needs to speak his heart - and he knows better than to try to change the subject. There is a world of words unsaid between them and Frank, well, he couldn’t be blamed for anything he felt. Ever, maybe, since Gerard has made a fool of him so many times.

“Why would you come here?”, Frank asks. “I mean, really, it would have been easier if you had just sent me a message. I don’t even know how you managed to leave home without being chased down and killed.”

Gerard laughs, but it hurts. Frank would love to see his face as he laughs his pain away. “I am a grown up. Managed to leave the city without getting hit by a car or a wife.”

“How is she, by the way?”, Frank doesn’t mean to sound bitter, but it is a lie. He does mean it. He means it so bad.

“I don’t know,” Gerard confesses. There is a long pause. Something is stuck in Frank’s throat. “I’ve been away for a few days. I like… the silence, you know? Being able to be alone is a blessing sometimes. I woke up today and there was just me in the room and it felt strange, but also good. It reminded me of a time when it was easier. Tougher, but easier. Does it make sense?”

“You were never the kind to wake up alone,” Frank says.

“You are probably right,” Gerard concedes. Frank licks his lips and lays back on his bed. The air around him is suddenly too cold. He thinks about Gerard’s body, about the way he would definitely make the sheets warmer, about being quiet with him.

Being quiet with him. He gets it. He remembers when Gerard would feel so anxious his hands would sweat. The only thing that made him come back was being close to Frank in completely, blessed silence. He remembers when Gerard whispered in his ear that sharing no sound was the most intimate thing that could ever happen between them.

“I will ask you again,” Frank closes his eyes, feeling drained. “What do you want from me?”

“To talk,” Gerard says in a heartbeat. He was waiting for that question again; he has been thinking about it for a few minutes now. “I really, really just want it. I want to hear your voice. I want you to ground me. Am I being selfish?”

“You are being yourself,” Frank shrugs. “Can’t really label you; isn’t it what you used to say?”

“I get it, you are angry,” Gerard doesn’t sound so patient anymore, but he doesn’t dare to change his tone. The right to do so, he lost it long time ago. “I will not bother you anymore. I just wanted to let you know that I am here. At this very moment, I am drinking alone and eating very oily french fries on the first floor of the hotel. If you feel like joining me, it would be… really nice. I am not asking, I am just informing you that I am here.”

“Sounds very much like an invitation to me.”

“It is, if you want to. Otherwise, it is not,” Gerard will not push him. Not again. “And my room… Well, it’s 203. I don’t know where you are and I will not ask you about it. I… If you feel like talking tomorrow, we can have breakfast together, I don’t know. Just knock on my door if you want to. It will be good to hear from you.”

“Ok,” Frank says, still processing all the information he has just received. He takes a deep breath. “Good night.”

x -

It’s almost two a.m. when Frank knocks on his door. He feels proud; he waited a few hours before running back to Gerard. It was a strange and new feeling: years before, he would have run to him the second Gerard mentioned the number of his room.

He waited for the grin in Gerard’s face. He actually promised himself he would punch it out of his beautiful mouth until his guts felt less churned. However, what welcomed him was a sleepy and confused expression.

It took Gerard a few seconds to realize it was Frank who was there. When he finally did, his smile was bright enough to make Frank ashamed of every single thought that was not of love.

“You came,” he says in awe. “I am glad. I wish you had told me; I… I have soda and beer in the fridge. I guess I have some Doritos as well.”

“You didn’t think I would come?”, Frank asks, his eyebrows showing how surprised he was to hear that. He entered the room as soon as Gerard gave him space to do so, but said nothing else.

“I wasn’t sure,” Gerard answers, his voice a little rough from sleeping. “I waited for some time, but the bar closes at midnight, so I had to come back. I was kind of hoping to find you in the elevator, but you weren’t there. I presumed that you didn’t want to talk to me, then, so I went to sleep”.

“I see.”

“You were waiting for something else.”

“What?”

Frank blinks, surprised by the change of attitude. Gerard smiles and sits down on his bed. Frank’s eyes travel down his body, to black shirt and his saggy pants, and he doesn’t think this is the man he fell in love with so long ago; yet, it’s exactly the same person. He is tired of Gerard's contradictions, but he can’t stop asking for more.

“Were you waiting for something else?”

“Is it a question now?”

“It is,” Gerard nods. “Do you want a beer?”

“Yeah, it would be nice,” Frank concedes. Gerard gets up and goes to the frigobar. “I was waiting for something else.”

“You expected me to wait for you with good booze and a very nice dinner,” Gerard concluded as he handed Frank the bottle. The smaller one grabbed it without saying anything and proceeded to open it without looking at Gerard. “Just like the old times.”

“Just like the old times,” Frank agreed. They looked at each other for a few seconds. “What are we drinking to?”

“Life?”, Gerard suggests and Frank laughs, shaking his head. He takes a sip of his beer. “Your show. It was good. Beautiful to watch. I admire your energy; when you are on the stage, it’s just magic”

“Quit the bullshit, will you?”

Gerard puts down his bottle, eyes wide and mouth agape. He blinks slowly as his shoulders get tense. Frank frowns, not used to that kind of body language. Gerard doesn’t look quite himself; it’s just a shadow of the showman who was always so eager to impress.

“What have I done?”, he asks and it is so sincere that Frank wants to hold him. He doesn’t, though.

“Before or just now?”

“Frank, I am just trying to talk to you. I came all the way to do so,” Gerard sighs. His shoulders are still tight, so tight Frank knows they will hurt in the morning. “You are still mad about the last time.”

“No, I am mad about the fact you didn’t talk about it the moment you called me,” Frank answers right away, but refuses to let go of his control. He will not give Gerard the chance to realize his hands are already shaking. He will not let him know he can feel the smell of soap from the bath Gerard took before going to bed and how that makes him so eager to shove his nose into his neck and he will never let him know that being close to him is physically distressing because it is like being home after so, so long and finding peace in chaos.

Frank wishes he had a cigarette in his hand. The smoke would bring him back to his body, maybe even remind him that he was in front of a person who never gave him more than a few scraps of affection but could never, ever let him go completely. “We have this bonding,” Gerard would say, smile and add that “it’s way too beautiful to be broken”.

“I am sorry,” Gerard amends, eyeing him cautiously and removing him from the place of memories he was immersed in. “I should have seen it. I had seen it before, many times, but I… I felt you didn’t need me.”

“Because a person who is anxious and asking ‘please, stay with me’ is not being clear enough, apparently,” Frank dismisses and drinks a little more of his beer. And then a little more. And then he finishes it, so fed up he just wants to go to bed.

“You didn’t understand,” Gerard shakes his hands, not knowing how to verbalize the complexity of his feelings. Too many words written, too much accumulated knowledge and yet he was not capable of expressing himself coherently. “You were hyperventilating. And it was my fault, because I told you a huge amount of crap. I realized I was being an idiot as soon as I finished speaking, but then you were already shaking and I thought that it wouldn’t help if I stayed there. I was the cause of it. That’s why I called in the guys. That’s why I left. But you weren’t alone, Ray was there with you.”

“But I didn’t ask Ray to be there,” Frank clarifies, eyes cold and mouth slightly pressed. “I asked you to be there. And you left me. And didn’t send me a fucking message for weeks. Fucking months, Gerard. You can’t just call me and say that you travelled four hours to meet me in my hotel like it was just this simple, like there was nothing between you and me that needs to be over, fucking destroyed forever.”

“It doesn’t,” Gerard stutters, suddenly afraid. “It doesn’t have to be destroyed. I never wanted it to.”

“You never wanted it to be solved, though. So, seriously, fuck off,” Frank puts the bottle on his nightstand. “It’s more than I can handle. I just wanted to sleep tonight. Fucking sleep for once, without listening to anyone.”

“You miss the silence too, don’t you?”

Frank’s eyes go wide. He stares at Gerard like he wants to hit him, then looks like he is about to kiss him. Gerard braces for the impact - both options will hurt. It is frustrating, terribly frustrating, when Frank just gives him a strong push.

“Not much of a poet, you said,” Frank spits. Gerard doesn’t move, just stares at him with eyes that are too sad for a person who claims to have everything. “Always choosing the most painful sentences, though. Bet it’s easy for you to make everyone think it’s just the way you are - so artsy. You are still living the dream you can fool everyone with your words. Not me. I hear it, I feel nothing. I can’t touch it, the things you say. I can’t live them. I’ve spent years in this, hoping I would fix you, hoping I would find a way to deserve to be inside your narrative, but I can’t do this anymore.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Gerard mutters. It enrages Frank how much Gerard is not willing to even fight him back. “Do you want me to leave?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, shrugging. “You came. You crossed the country to be here. There was no way I could sleep knowing you were in the same building. I kept asking myself: what if he came all this way to tell me something that could change my life? What if he came here to say he was wrong and fucking, finally choose me?”

“I chose you.”

“No, you didn’t,” he says; he doesn’t even have to think. “There is a ring on your finger. Could you be more obvious?”

“You are not wrong,” Gerard tries. He takes a step closer to Frank, which makes the other flinch. He stops, then, not willing to make Frank even more uncomfortable. “In all honesty, I was just scared you had forgotten me.”

“What?”

“There, I said it,” Gerard tries to smile, but ends up showing his teeth in a way that is both threatening and anxious. “I was scared that, after all that happened, I wasn’t… I mean… I was afraid you would forget me. That you had forgotten me already.”

“It always impresses me how you can make everything about you,” Frank says, but he is soft this time. There is no anger; there is a shadow of something Gerard doesn’t really know what is, but he is dying to find out. “And I should be more surprised than I am. What does it say about me?”

“That you know me enough,” Gerard tries to joke, but it’s just like an apology. “Would you like to… sit down? I don’t know? Do you want me to call room service and ask for something, maybe… dinner?”

“No, thanks, I’m okay like this,” Frank shrugs, but goes to the fridge. He serves himself another beer, for he will definitely need it for the conversation that is about to start. “I haven’t.”

“You haven’t what?”

“I think you understood me,” Frank says, opening his bottle and taking a sip. He doesn’t miss the way Gerard’s eyes focus on his mouth, but he doesn’t make a show of drinking a beer. He is not in the mood for such a game.

“I did,” Gerard admits and his smile is a little less fake this time. He puts his hands behind his back, trying to look relaxed, maybe younger, but it’s not possible. They’re not twenty anymore. “Would you be mad if I asked you about… I will just ask: how have you been? You’ve been travelling a lot.”

“Yeah, touring is always good,” there is something funny in the way Frank says it; it’s like he doesn’t believe that small talking is their thing. Gerard agrees. “Except for the fact that I can’t really sleep and I drink too much. And some people, you know, are crazy. Last week a girl wearing a trench coat knocked on my door at three o’clock”.

“A trench coat?”, Gerard asked, one eyebrow up. Frank laughed, drinking a little more.

“And nothing else.”

“No shit,” Gerard laughed, covering his mouth. Frank offered him a big smile, shaking his head. “And what happened?”

“Well, I screamt,” Frank shrugged. “I kept screaming “I will call the security!” as she ran away. I didn’t call the security, of course, because there is no such a thing in hotels, but I guess she didn’t know that. That was interesting, but not in a good way.”

“That’s your fault,” Gerard says. Frank hums. “For being… so hot? I am sorry, it sounded so much better in my head.”

“It was bad,” Frank agrees. “I like it.”

“Good, thank you for not embarrassing me,” Gerard says, but he’s hurting. There’s a sting in the middle of his chest. He thinks. He thinks twice. He doesn’t think when he finally speaks. “You are the only one.”

“No, I am not,” Frank says softly.

Their breathing. Gerard’s is erratic. Frank’s is low, steady. They can hear each other. Frank puts the second bottle on the nightstand and the sound of the glass is loud in their ears. Then it disappears.

Their breathing. Gerard’s is getting louder; he is anxious, he knows, because Frank’s eyes are an ocean and he is screaming, asking, please, let me drown into them. Frank sighs, his breathing slowly getting a little higher. Frank knows he shouldn’t be there. He knows he has to leave in the morning, that the plane will be waiting for him at ten, but Gerard’s face, stubble and all, is still the prettiest thing he has ever seen.

Suddenly they are in a cheaper hotel room, sitting on the floor and laughing because of too many bottles of whatever shit Gerard bought. Suddenly they look at each other and everything is inside this moment of connection - eyes, eyelids, eyelashes, maybe too much eyeliner as well. Suddenly there is just this, all the poetry and the songs they never wrote to each other, but were always there, dancing above their heads, asking them to be sung for a crowd.

They are too much and never enough. It was like this before. It is still like this, Frank knows, and he doesn’t understand how these things work. Years dance above their heads and Frank knows they are not getting any younger. He feels like he is seeing the world for the first time. And it is beautiful in a way the sun is beautiful, but it hurts the eyes.

“Do you ever think,” Gerard starts. Frank closes his eyes and doesn’t move. “About those days?”

“No,” Frank lies and he knows Gerard knows he is lying but he doesn’t care. Gerard’s body is too close and his throat burns because Frank remembers, he remembers everything - the days he spent screaming into the mic, his voice so raw it was hard to listen to it for a long time; the days he spent writing and throwing the papers into the fire, always so peeved, so absolutely angry with everything; all the ink he injected into his skin so he would feel better, but he never ever felt better --

Gerard’s touch mirrors Frank’s breath. Frank shakes his head.

“Do you remember,” Frank murmurs as Gerard’s face gets closer. He doesn’t fight when Gerard holds him and hides his face in his neck. “That I used to wake up touching your face?”

“I do,” Gerard whispers, caressing his back with his fingertips, so softly Frank thinks it’s almost devotional.

“It felt good,” Frank admits. “Because you would wake up slowly and look at me and give me a sleepy smile. That smile was mine and mine alone. I think that it was hard because… I don’t mind sharing you with the world. I never minded it. I knew there was a part of you that only I was allowed to see. It hurt when I realized it wasn’t true.”

“I think I needed to feel that I was normal for once,” Gerard confesses. Frank opens his eyes slowly, letting the words sink in. “To wake up at eight, have a good breakfast, start working. Have lunch at twelve, start again, stop at five. It felt good. Until it stopped feeling good.”

“Then you called me,” Frank whispered. “Because I’m good at making you feel good.”

“Yes,” Gerard says. “What does it make me?”

“A piece of shit,” Frank whispers, kissing Gerard’s neck. Gerard freezes, but refuses to move. Frank’s body feels real. Everything else is a blur. Gerard’s life is a blur. “And yet I am not mad.”

“What are you?”

“Keep your eyes closed,” Frank asks. Gerard’s body is rigid, but he manages to whisper something that sounds like an “okay”. Frank slowly moves away, but keeps his hand on Gerard’s face. “I want you to remember a thing for me.”

“Ok.”

“Remember the first show? Not like… the first. But the first big show?” Frank whispers, delicate, relearning Gerard’s traces, his beautiful, beautiful features. Gerard nods. “We came to the hotel and it was the first time we had separate rooms. We drank together and when we were wasted you told them you were going to bed. You looked at me, smiled and left. I counted to ten, said I was going to bed as well and met you in the elevator. I couldn’t understand why it was so hard for you to say it out loud. They knew it. All of them knew it.”

“I was afraid,” Gerard says, his voice so low Frank almost doesn’t hear it. “I wanted to be the person they wanted me to be.”

“Bullshit,” Frank says, but the word sounds like a caress to Gerard’s face. It’s sweet, the way Frank can say things that break him in two. “You wanted to be a person you would be proud of being. You are still trying. Look at where you are. At where we are. What has changed? You are still the man who shared a small bed with me many, many times, but will not talk about it because it doesn’t feel right.”

“Frank, I,” Gerard opens his eyes, but Frank doesn’t want to see it. His hands go to Gerard’s eyelids and he covers them. It’s gentle, but Gerard knows what is behind the gesture. He obeys, closing his eyes again. The words disappear.

“Don’t open your eyes until I say so,” Frank keeps going. His hands leave Gerard’s eyes and he watches him. “We went to your room, took a shower and went to bed. I remember it was not comfortable at all, but it was the biggest bed he had always shared. You held me in your arms. You said I looked good when I was exhausted. And we stayed quiet for a long time, just understanding what had happened to us. It had worked, all the things we had dreamt about were finally happening, and it wasn’t necessary to say anything.”

Gerard tries to reach for him, but Frank doesn’t grab his hand. He accepts it, the resistance, the hesitancy, but it doesn’t make it less unpleasant. He waits.

“I guess you thought I was asleep when you said, but I wasn’t. I asked you to repeat it, but you didn’t want to. I still remember what you said,” Frank’s voice is not so close anymore. Gerard opens his mouth, alarmed. “You said that you and I would share bigger and prettier places in the future.”

“Frank.”

“We did,” Frank agrees, opening the door very cautiously. “This is not one of them, though”. 

“Frank.”

“Enjoy your own company; I’m pretty sure it will give you the silence you so desperately need,” he says, already closing the door. “It has given me nothing for a long, long time.”

Gerard’s breathing fills the room. His eyes are still closed.

There is an ocean flowing out from them.


End file.
